


To Be Your Shelter

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: After the punch that made us all gasp in horror, Angst, Canon-Compliant, Christmas Isn't Canon, Episode: s02e10 Chinatown, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: Drained and morose, he steps into his room.Stops.Stares.(Of all the places he thought to look, this one never even crossed his mind.)





	To Be Your Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I know I wasn't the only one who wanted a scene with Flynn comforting Lucy after that punch, so I decided to write it. Fair warning, while I don't actually hate Wyatt, Flynn really does in this fic. Also, Flynn is just a gentle soul who wants to protect the woman he loves, light anyone who hurts her on fire, and see her smile. 
> 
> For those of you who voted on Tumblr, this was the winner! Flynn and Jessica friendship was a close runner-up, so that one will probably be up next.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

The truth is, it's not a small bunker.    
  
It can feel that way sometimes. Eight people, one bathroom, and one tv? It’s enough to make anyone claustrophobic. Sometimes, he feels wound too tightly, like he can't get away from the distrust and wariness around him. Only Lucy wants him there, after all. But she's enough.    
  
Yes, it can feel small, but objectively, it isn't. It's easy to get lost in. Especially when you don't want to be found.   
  
"Lucy?"    
  
He's looked in every room he can think of, searched every nook and cranny he's found, and there's no sign of her. Not since Wyatt...    
  
Best not to let himself think about that. If he lets himself remember the sickening moment when he realized what Wyatt had done, that he had laid hands on Lucy, however unintentionally.... Well. Murdering Wyatt would end with him back in prison and Lucy even more devastated. Heartbroken. He won't be the one to do that to her.    
  
Finally, he's forced to concede defeat: she clearly doesn't want to be found. It sends a surge of panic through him, not being able to see her, but if she'd tried to escape, a thousand alarms would be sounding, and the blow Wyatt dealt to her was terrible emotionally, but the injury wasn't actually that severe. She is, physically, fine. She just wants to be alone. So even though it goes against every instinct in his body, he will leave her alone.   
  
Drained and morose, he steps into his room.   
  
Stops.   
  
Stares.   
  
(Of all the places he thought to look, this one never even crossed his mind.)    
  
Sitting on his bed, wrapped in his warmest jacket, is none other than Lucy Preston.    
  
"Lucy?" He keeps his voice soft, careful not to startle her. She's staring blankly at the wall, and he's not sure she's aware of his presence. "I've been looking for you."    
  
It isn't an accusation, but he worries that it might sound like one. She doesn't seem offended, though, as she turns her head toward him. Doesn't meet his eyes, just looks past him listlessly. "Thought you were going after Wyatt again."    
  
The offer is out before he thinks about it. "Do you want me to?"    
  
She considers his question, and that tells him more than anything about how she's holding up. "No."    
  
"Okay." No matter how much he hates the man, he respects Lucy. "Do you want me to leave?"    
  
"No."    
  
And though he would give her anything, he can’t help but be relieved, because if he can’t be there for her, he doesn’t trust himself to be out and about, where he might see Wyatt. 

"Okay."    
  
She lapses into silence, and he isn't quite sure what to say, or if she wants him to talk at all. In the end, he decides to just be there for her, to listen if she speaks. He settles into the hard, uncomfortable chair by his bed, and waits.   
  
His jacket looks good on her, he can't help but notice. It practically swallows her, of course, but it suits her, nonetheless. And something about her hiding with him-in his room, in his bed, in his jacket, in his  _ presence _ -steals his breath, just for a moment. After everything he has done to her, she has found it in herself not only to forgive him, but to trust him, to feel safe with him. It seems impossible, but it’s true, and he has no intentions of messing that up.   
  
Of course, neither did Wyatt.   
  
He pushes that unwelcome comparison away, steadfastly refuses to entertain it, and returns his focus to the present.    
  
Lucy shakes her head, fiddling with the pocket on his jacket. The button on it is chipped, and the thread holding it in place is almost entirely frayed.  "He didn't mean to hurt me."    
  
He suspects she isn't just referring to the punch, and also suspects that she isn't looking for a response. Which is good, because none that he could give would actually help the situation.    
  
"I know he didn't. So why am I-" She cuts herself off sharply.    
  
"Whether he meant to or not, he did hurt you," he points out, tone darker than he intends. "You have every right to be angry."    
  
She blinks. Pulls the jacket tighter around her, like a shield, and he silently hopes that it isn't him she's protecting herself from. "I mean, I don't know what I expected. I'm the one who tried to break up the fight. I was just..." She drops her gaze. "So scared."    
  
It aches, but he knows it's entirely deserved. Still, he has to reassure her. "I wouldn't have really hurt him, Lucy. I promise. I was angry, but I know how much he means to you.”  Of course, his definition of hurt might be different from hers; a broken nose hardly qualifies, not in their line of work.   
  
She looks up at him, briefly startled. Shakes her head. "It wasn't him I was-” She falters, but he hears what she doesn't say. For several seconds, he does not- _ cannot _ -breathe. Can hardly think. She interfered because she was worried about him? (She got  _ hurt _ because she was worried about him. His stomach turns violently, and yet, he cannot help but be overwhelmed that she would be willing to defend him, against Wyatt, of all people.)    
  
"I-Thank you," He says, belatedly, when he realizes that she's still looking at him expectantly. "But don't worry." A playful wink, breaking the tension. "I can handle Wyatt."    
  
She giggles, and he's stupidly pleased with himself. Then, a broken noise slips from her throat. The laughter is threatening to turn to tears, he realizes, reaching for her. Trying to hide the hurt when she pulls away.   
  
"I... Apologize," He murmurs, but she shakes her head.   
  
"You didn't-" Her voice breaks, but she soldiers on. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just-Once I start crying, I'm not sure-" She swallows hard. Presses the back of her hand against her eye. "Not sure I'll be able to stop. And the team needs me right now." She smiles at him, obviously forced, but stronger than he can understand. "I can hold it together for now. I can. Really.”   
  
Trying to convince herself, as much as him. (But then, he's never needed much convincing when it comes to her. Maybe-hopefully-she finally knows that.)   
  
"I believe you," he assures her. "I believe you."    
  
"Good." Her smile shifts, steadies a little. After a moment, she tentatively holds out her hand, and he takes it. Squeezes gently.    
  
Her hand is soft, but not so much as he would have imagined. (Has imagined. More than he should admit to.) Her fingers are slim and delicate, dwarfed by his own, and he fights the urge to trace each one. To press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“You know,” he murmurs, and she tilts her head toward him half an inch. To hear him better, he’s sure, but it’s enough to derail his train of thought briefly. “If you change your mind about me going after Wyatt…” 

A startled laugh slips from her lips, and she swats his arm with her free hand. “Absolutely not.” She pauses. Seems to be debating something with herself. Finally, she grins at him conspiratorially. “I call dibs.” 

It’s his turn to laugh, and oh, it feels good. He almost wants to see that fight, though he knows it will never happen. His Lucy is too good to ever do something like that. Still, she’s willing to joke about it with him, and that’s more than enough.   
  
Finally, she pulls away, and he reluctantly lets her. Smiles at her reassuringly, as she takes a deep breath, sliding off his bed. "Come on," she says, fierce as ever. "Let's get Jiya back."    
  
He follows her.    
  
Of course.   
  
(He doesn't punch Wyatt, but oh, he comes close. When the man reaches for Lucy, not to apologize, but to console, he sees red. Doesn't feel the least bit guilty at the satisfaction that comes when she pulls away, firm and unyielding. Wyatt's face falls, into something that should probably inspire pity.   
  
Flynn smiles.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed! I treasure reviews like a fandom dragon!


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